I didn’t like her when I met her.

I don’t even like to say that.  It seems so, well, mean.  I suppose a better word would be judgmental.

I did think she was pretty, even cool looking.  Like someone I could hang out with.  Not that I perceive myself that way… I just thought she appeared fairly laid back.  I am fairly laid back.  My dad has even joked that I am so laid back I may fall over.  But… that was before the six pack.  Is anyone ever relaxed again after kids enter the picture?  Compared to others, we may be relaxed.  Compared to our former selves, well, completely relaxed is a notion I see in the rearview.  There are six little ones carrying pieces of my heart.  Who can relax when a heart is spread wide and worn on the sleeve?

Comparison.  It can inflate the ego… falsely.  It can deflate a soul… foolishly.

Then, she told me about herself.

And she told me about herself.

And I learned just a bit more about herself… herself… herself.

Got it.  She’s great.  She knows it.  I am definitely not cool enough to hang out with her.

So, I decided.  I didn’t like her.

I tried for just a little while longer to like her.  Honestly, I barely tried, and not for very long.

After all, if she liked herself so much, she probably didn’t need me to like her, too.

So, that was it.  I decided that she was not for me.  I really did not know her, but I am a good judge of character, and I knew she was a little too full of herself.  Not for me.

Compared.  Judged.  Stamped with a big, fat

No.

Little did I know.

Here I was teaching my own young ones

accept, don’t judge, don’t compare

you just don’t know the whole story

Did I practice what I preached?

Not this time.

And, then, God.

He always shows up to show me where I am wrong, wrong, wrong.

And I am… grateful.

He, and she, caught me off guard one day.  One day, she showed up, just to help, just to serve.  She wanted nothing in return.

Oh.

The chilled corner of this heart chipped… and began to melt.

Could I be wrong?

Could it really be that there was something about her… that threatened me?

Made me feel… not quite good enough?

Did I compare myself… to her?  

Did I fall short… in my own eyes.

That human response we want to outgrow when we outgrow our training bras… there it was.

Jealousy.

She drove away; I hung my head in shame.

I’m sorry, God.

I’d like to dress it up and eloquently name the feeling, but I just felt like a… jerk.

I’m not a fan of the moments that He points out the worst in me.  That whole discipline thing.

Here  it is.  That chipped and chilled corner of this heart… warmed.

I actually liked her.  In fact, I appreciated her.  Even more, I saw this woman with her own insecurities.  She carried an imaginary, giant cut-out of her “perfect” self to hide behind… to hide her own feelings.  The I’m-not-good-enough-so-I’m-gonna-talk-myself-up method.

Just one of many methods we use to defend, to measure up, to fit in.

We compare ourselves, and we miss the opportunity.

We miss the chance to see each other, and ourselves, as we are.

He has perfectly equipped me to be me; He has perfectly equipped you to be you.

He is perfectly able to (painfully) press out our imperfections (plenty of those here).

I wonder, when I fall short, if maybe it’s because I’m trying to be like someone else?

Trying to be like someone else, and missing the chance to be a better… me.

Lesson learned… again.

 

Romans 14:13

Therefore let us stop passing judgement on one another.  Instead, make up your mind not to put any stumbling block or obstacle in your brother’s way.